


Once We Had A Country And We Thought It Fair

by Fluffyllama (Llama)



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-23
Updated: 2011-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-26 10:55:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama/pseuds/Fluffyllama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alona doesn't want a mother. Her father doesn't want a wife. Nobody has ever asked Sam what <i>she</i> wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once We Had A Country And We Thought It Fair

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Pretty Lights 2009.
> 
> Once we had a country and we thought it fair,  
> Look in the atlas and you'll find it there:  
> We cannot go there now, my dear, we cannot go there now.
> 
> From Refugee Blues, W.H Auden

"I'm not in the market for a wife," Elder Tal said, ignoring the insistent chatter of the agency's number one salesman about contract terms and twenty year exchange schemes. He flicked briskly through the catalogue of smiling, seductive faces without apparent interest.

"Then if I might enquire, sir…" The manager nudged the salesman aside and opened a few more viewing books with a flourish and a questioning eyebrow.

"My daughter needs a mother, a caretaker—" Tal picked out the one marked 'Ten Year Contracts' and allowed the manager to guide him through its pages. He reached out a hand to stop him on a page marked 'Prisoner Program' and noted the bargain prices. "And if not a role model… then perhaps a warning will suffice."

 

"I don't need a new mother," Alona shrieked, stamping her foot in a manner she should have long outgrown. "I _have_ a mother, and _she_ can't replace her. She can't tell me what to do!"

 

Samantha Ferris had never wanted to be anyone's mother.

As usual, nobody gave a good goddamn what she wanted.

 

 _Eleven_

Sam folded her arms and waited for the child's paddy to subside, but Alona's nursemaid couldn't even make herself heard over the racket, let alone calm the child down. Holy shit but that kid had a real set of lungs on her.

"Tell daddy to send her away _now_!" Alona screamed, and the nursemaid ran off in tears.

"Now you know why the mother left," a guy that looked like some kind of servant sniggered, crushing a cigarette underfoot. Presumably someone lower on the household staff would have to clean it up. As if that wasn't enough, he reached for the girl and gave her a shake. "Spoilt little bitch."

A few moments later he crashed to the floor and Sam dusted off her hands. "Damn," she said, checking her smarting knuckles. "I'm getting rusty."

Alona's eyes were wide, and her mouth still open. Sam crouched down just low enough to look her in the eye. "Listen kid, you don't want me here, and I sure as hell don't want to be here. You might not need a mother, but it looks to me like we could both use a friend. How about it?"

Sam watched Alona's eyes take in the unconscious man on the floor and return to size her up.

"Teach me how to do that," she said, with no trace remaining of her temper tantrum, "and you've got a deal."

 

 _Twelve_

"That's it, you're getting it now!" Sam grinned down at Alona, who was sprawled on the floor mats for the fifteenth time at least that morning.

Alona took the hand she was offered and pulled herself upright. "Uh huh. Then how come I'm still the one picking myself up off the floor?"

"You're smaller than me, I have a longer reach, and I've been doing this for longer than you've been alive," Sam rattled off. "You need more reasons? 'Cause I've got plenty more where those came from."

Alona rolled her eyes.

"Don't give me none of that." Sam took up her fighting stance again and waited for Alona to do the same.

She did, with a sigh. "I'm just grateful lesson one was 'How to Fall'," she said, and prepared to charge.

"Remember what I said about balance!" Sam called out, just in time for Alona to twist their legs together and bring them both crashing to the floor.

"What is going on here?"

They both looked up from where they were grinning on the mats to see Alona's father staring down at them.

"Sam's teaching me self-defense," Alona said, before Sam could speak. "I asked her to."

"Samantha is not here to teach you how to brawl like a common ruffian." Elder Tal frowned at his daughter. "If you have time to spare from your studies and other duties, I'm sure there are more useful areas of instruction she can help you with."

"There's no need—" Alona started, but her father had already turned away.

"I will provide a list," he said, and the door closed behind him.

"I'll talk to him." Sam didn't hold out much hope, but it was worth a try. "Or, I know. He doesn't want you brawling, but how about weapons?"

Alona's eyes lit up at that. "You know about weapons? What kind of weapons?"

Sam laughed. Alona reminded her too much of herself sometimes. "You name it, I can probably teach you how to use it."

Alona bit her lip, obviously tempted by the idea, but in the end she shook her head. "If he finds out, he'll send you away."

"Aww, would you miss me, brat?" Sam ruffled Alona's hair in the way she hated, and Alona squealed. "That's so sweet!"

"I take it back!" Alona ducked away from her and shook her hair straight again. "I hate you and I hope your new owners make you sweep floors all day, or muck out stables."

When Sam tucked her into bed that night though, Alona grabbed her hand before she could leave.

"I'm sorry I said those horrible things. You know I didn't mean it, right?"

"I know, honey." Sam still wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry at Alona's idea of worst case scenarios, but she wasn't going to do either in front of the kid. In the end she just kissed her on the forehead and said good night.

 

 _Thirteen_

"And if your waitress is a slave?" Sam asked, consulting the text book once more.

"The preferred term is _Person of Restricted Freedom_ ," Alona said, slouched in her seat. She flicked a pencil off her desk and missed Sam's shoe by a hair's breadth. "Damnit."

"Preferred by who?" Sam said automatically, but she seemed to have caught Alona's interest for the first time.

"What do _you_ prefer?" she asked, but Sam tapped her finger on the book, grateful for once that they had a strict lesson schedule. "Okay, okay. What was the question again?"

"If your waitress is a slave – _Person of Restricted Freedom_ , whatever – how much do you tip her?" Sam repeated.

"Is it a trick question?" Alona lined up another pencil, but she refrained from firing it when Sam scowled at her.

"I don't think they're allowed to put trick questions in books on etiquette."

"Okay, good." Alona yawned, and Sam tried not to do likewise. "Well then, is she pretty?"

Sam stared at her, wondering what she'd missed. "Is who pretty?"

"The waitress." Alona leaned forward. "If she's pretty I would probably tip her more."

"You would?" Sam wasn't sure if she found Alona's sentiments more or less worrying than her honesty.

Alona smiled, but it wasn't her usual sunny grin. "Doesn't everyone? Daddy always tips more when they remind him of my mother."

The observation accurate enough, but Sam couldn't help feeling Alona was having fun with her. She just wasn't sure exactly what the joke was.

"This is Etiquette 101, not Psychology," Sam said tartly, and tapped the book once more. "Write your answer down and we can talk about it later if you like."

Half an hour later, Alona only seemed to have a well-chewed pencil to show for her efforts so far. Sam folded her arms and waited for an explanation.

"She was a slave, wasn't she?" Alona asked when Sam didn't budge. "My mother, I mean. That's why she left, because her term was up and she'd paid off her debts, or her price, whatever."

"Oh honey, no." Sam tried not to listen to gossip, but it was hard to avoid in a household as large as the Tal's. " Sometimes marriages just don't work out, and I think it was something in the marriage contract that meant she had to leave you here."

"You have a contract," Alona said, and Sam could see something glisten in her eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere," Sam promised her, and she hoped it was true.

 

 _Fourteen_

"Boys are kind of stupid," Alona announced after her first kiss, and Sam grinned behind her hair.

"You can say that again," she laughed. "But they'll be more interesting to you one day, and then the joke's on us."

"I'll probably marry someone rich and powerful." Alona frowned. "Cook said your husband was a no-good sonofabitch, is that true?"

Sam let the language pass for once. "True as I'm standing here."

"Is he why you—" Alona paused. "Got into trouble?"

"Cook seems to have been a mine of information," Sam said drily, and Alona blushed.

"I was curious, and you never talk about your life before."

Sam sighed. "You ever think I might not be so proud of it, brat?"

But Alona kept silent while she told her story, even when she touched on things the kid couldn't possibly understand. Alona would never have to choose marriage to escape a life without prospects, or use black market sources to ensure her no-good husband's attempts to knock her up didn't succeed before he drank himself to death behind his own bar. Nor would she, god willing, ever find herself with more debts than assets when left alone, and have to weigh up life as a – Jesus Christ -- _Person of Restricted Freedom_ over hard jail time or a life on the run.

"I don't think I want to get married," was all Alona said when Sam ran out of words.

Sam almost told her she would change her mind, but she was afraid of sounding exactly like her mother.

 

 _Fifteen_

After the third time Sam walked in on Alona and found her flushed and awkward with one of her female school friends, she pretty much knew where things were going.

It shouldn't have troubled her, but something about it did. Maybe it was something about the look of that Rosemary girl that niggled at her, or maybe it was just that she knew the girl was a few years older than Alona.

Maybe it was simply that she had a good idea what Alona's father would make of it.

"I think I like women," Alona announced, her chin tilted defiantly upwards.

Sam was going to tell her that was okay, but something about Alona's words derailed her train of thought. "You mean girls," she said, though she wasn't quite sure why.

"I know what I mean," said Alona, and Sam wished to hell _she_ did.

 

 _Sixteen_

"But it's legal now!"

"Alona, we are not discussing this again."

" _Legal_ , did you hear me? I'm old enough to get married, for Christ's sake! Anyway, nobody will know."

Sam snorted. If there was anything went on in this house that wasn't gossiped about she'd be very surprised.

"Just one." Alona put on her best wheedling voice, the one that could even convince Cook to give her second helpings on a good day. "Just one, and it can be really, really tiny?"

"Which part of 'I am not kissing you' did you miss?"

"The part where you gave me a reason," Alona snapped back smartly, and Sam groaned.

"I know you've kissed girls before. You told me!"

"I was just trying to make you feel better," Sam said, but it wasn't true and Alona knew that perfectly well.

"And now I'm old enough to consent, there's no reason why we can't kiss." Alona grinned. "Or more, if you're up for it."

Sam wasn't. She really, really, wasn't. She tried to picture the eleven year old Alona just to be sure, but there was no sign of that child in the young woman standing in front of her now.

"I'm still older than you. They'd put me away for influencing you if they found out," she said, trying to avoid meeting Alona's eye.

Alona snorted. "You're a sla-- _Person of Restricted Freedom_. You're not supposed to _have_ influence."

"Then you'd be abusing the privileges of ownership," Sam said. "Either way—"

"Either way, horseshit. We both want this, and you know it."

Alona moved in closer, and Sam didn't move away. She was still pretty sure someone's rights were being abused when Alona's lips found hers, but damned if she knew whose they were.

 

 _Seventeen_

It was warm under the soft quilt, and the last thing Sam wanted to do was move.

"I should go," she whispered, but she buried her face in Alona's hair instead of pulling away. "It's getting late."

Alona nuzzled her cheek, but she didn't speak. Sam could feel a smooth leg slide over hers, and fingers close around her wrist to complete the trap. She smiled.

"Your father will be back soon."

Alona pulled her closer. "Not… not t'night."

"No?"

"Mmmm. Promise."

Alona yawned, but that wouldn't do. Not when they had a precious, whole night still ahead of them. It only took a couple of moves for Sam to roll them over and pin Alona to the mattress. Alona's eyes were suddenly wide in the near darkness, blinking as Sam ran a hand down her side, bit gently at a nipple, slid her fingers into soft, wet heat.

Alona came with Sam's hand circling her wrists, Sam's thumb on her clit, and Sam's name on her lips.

Sam watched over her until sunlight cracked the ceiling, just in case.

 

 _Eighteen_

Keeping the utter, blazing fury off her face until Alona's father left the drawing room was the hardest thing Sam had ever had to do.

"You're the one who said I needed to learn more about the world!"

"Not by doing your best to check out of it!"

Alona laughed, damn the stupid little bitch. "You heard my father. The army will be the making of me."

"Is this why you're doing it? To get his approval?"

"It'll keep him off my back. It'll give me some of that experience you think I need." Alona sighed, and her hands came up to hold Sam's face. "It's two years that will make things safer for us. We take too many risks, you know that."

Sam let her fingers close over Alona's. "I just—" She stopped, blinking away sudden tears.

"I know," Alona said softly. "Me too."

 

 _Nineteen_

"Just the weekend?" Sam tried to not sound disappointed, but she was pretty sure it didn't work.

"I only have leave at all because of signing the paperwork." Alona looked down at the deeds to her own, _their_ very own house. "I wish your name was on these too."

It was more than enough for Sam to be away from the Tal household, even ostensibly as housekeeper in Alona's absence, so it was easy for her to kiss the frown off Alona's face.

"When you call," she said, slipping her hands under Alona's starched uniform. "We can have phone sex."

"Mmm, no snooping servants. Works for me." Alona unfastened her buttons and slid her arms free of her jacket to give Sam easier access. "And I'll have to call often. How else can you teach me how to run a household and be a responsible adult?"

"Your father thought it was a great idea." Sam grinned. "But I don't think he knew what else to do with me."

"I do," Alona murmured, and pushed Sam back on the couch.

 

 _Twenty_

"I didn't think of this part," Alona said, when it was just the two of them. For real. For now. "There's a whole year."

A whole year until what, Sam didn't ask. There were too many answers to that question. A year until Alona was truly of age. A year until she was free of her father's house once and for all. A year until Sam's contract had run its course.

A year until they could, what? Cause shock and outrage throughout the community? Funny how the sensations of hope and dread had become so intertwined.

"What if someone guesses?" Alona said, pacing up and down the room. "My aunt Dera already wants to introduce me to eligible bachelors." She snorted a laugh. "Shame about the money really. Without that I'm not sure many of them would be interested in a woman who could kill them in seventeen different ways without breaking a sweat."

"Only seventeen?" Sam raised an eyebrow at that. "What kind of damn fool army we keeping these days?"

"I thought we'd be free," Alona said. "I thought— but we'll have to keep playing the parts."

"Only for a year," Sam said, but she wondered if that would be enough.

 

 _Twenty + three hundred and sixty four days_

"But how do I know you'll stay?" Alona whispered, her skin still flushed, her fingers still damp from Sam. "How do I know you'll be here tomorrow, next week, next year? How do I know we can make this work?" Her voice trembled, and for the first time in a decade she sounded young and uncertain again, a little girl lost.

"Oh, honey." Sam pulled her closer and pressed her lips against Alona's forehead. "You don't. That's kind of the point."


End file.
